It’s my hobby.  My personal escape.  My solace.

People who know where I go must think I’m crazy to know this.  The places I shop at are busy, crowded, multi-cultural, patience-lacking, shopping-cart-ramming food affairs.  Yet, that’s what I love.  I love seeing what other people buy.  I love the crazy family discussions regarding fish.  I love watching the awkward gawking from the obviously single guys in the instant noodle aisle every time a cute girl walks by.

Most of all, I love wandering the aisles.  There’s nothing like taking in all the sights and smells (not always a good thing) of a world of food.  There are always those things that I wish I could afford to buy – huge gorgeous scallops, sashimi-grade fatty tuna, deep colored saffron, huge chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano.  One day, I should splurge and pick up one or three of these things.

The problem is, I always come home with all this random food, then I find myself eating just so the stuff I buy doesn’t go bad and go to waste.  I need either a) self-control, b) people to feed, or c) better ways to use all this food.  Then I find myself with a dwindling fridge and an excuse to go to the market.  It’s a vicious cycle.

I’m going to go eat something.